Dizzojay's Dean Dreams (dizzojay) wrote,
Dizzojay's Dean Dreams

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A rabble of drabbles for our Impala's 45th birthday ...

Our gorgeous girl rolled off the assembly line 45 years ago today according to Chuck, and so I am delighted to present a handful of Impala-themed drabbles in honour of this great occasion ...

Genre: Family/Friendship
Rating: K
Word Count 100

There's someone looking after those boys; they just don't know it ...

Dean sighed, shifting slightly; soft breaths misting the passenger window as he enjoyed a much-needed nap. He relaxed unconsciously listening to the Impala's engine purring it's soothing lullaby.

When Dean took over driving Sam would get some good shut-eye, she'd see to that.

Working it out perfectly, she would run low on fuel just as they reached a gas station with a decent diner; those boys were looking too lean; they needed a good square meal.


When the yellow-eyed Demon deprived the Winchesters of the most important woman in their life, no-one told him there was another ready and willing to step up to the plate.



Genre: Humour
Rating: K+/T
Word Count: 100

That Trickster's been at work again. Only this time, Dean doesn't seem to mind terribly …

It had happened in the briefest of moments, but the result was undeniable.

The Impala had simply vanished.

In her place stood a gloriously mature, sassy and extremely beautiful woman. Her long raven-black hair curled loosely over elegant tawny shoulders, and a very little black dress clung wickedly to her slender curves, slipping like liquid silk around the slim contours of her shapely thighs.

Steely grey eyes tilted toward Dean, turning his knees to water. He gaped, wide-eyed and helpless, a bead of drool glistening on his bottom lip.

"Sam," he croaked; "would it be wrong if … ?"

Sam grimaced; "dude, don't even go there."



Genre: Humour
Rating: K+
Word Count: 100

Sam's had to face some horrific foes in his time. This one is far more terrifying than the rest of them put together.

Sam felt sick.

His heart raced, a cold sweat glistened across his furrowed brow.

Slippery palms gripped the steering wheel as he thought numbly of the dire fate awaiting him.

He'd never been so scared.

He turned slowly into the parking lot, pulling up outside the motel and stared forlornly through the grubby window of room eighteen.

What a crappy place to die!

Taking a deep breath to fortify himself, he switched on the defcon one puppydog face hoping he could, perhaps, engender a shred of mercy?

No chance.

Not when he had to tell Dean he'd scratched the Impala.



Genre: Family
Rating: K
Word Count: 100

There are some comforts even the best motels can't provide.

Dean rested his head against the back of his baby's seat and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply of her potent, comforting scent;

The rich essence of old, well maintained leather;

The lingering trace of a recently drained flask of coffee;

A subtle hint of gun oil and lighter fluid;

The faint musk of his sleeping brother's warm body mingled with the sweetly citrus tang of cheap aftershave;

With a smile, Dean wrapped the familiar, intoxicating perfume around him like a blanket.

Yes, a night spent in the Impala wasn't perfect, but it sure as heck came close …



Genre: Romance
Rating: K+/T
Word Count: 100

There's one special lady that Dean just can't keep his hands off.

Dean leaned over, running expert hands over the sleek contours of her body. Skilfully, lovingly; lingering strokes of well-practiced hands moving smoothly over the firm curves and planes of the proud beauty in front of him; the loving massage proving equally therapeutic to both of them.

As his strong, experienced hands worked their magic, he softly murmured sweet nothings; quiet, reassuring whispers making sure she knew she was the centre of his universe.

Eventually, he stood up, wiping his hands.

"Hey, lookin' good baby," he smiled, "that's enough wax; how about we top up your radiator now?"



Genre: Humour
Rating: K+
Word Count: 200

Just because you love someone dearly doesn't mean you don't take them for granted sometimes. Dean learns an important lesson from a scorned 'woman'.

Sam grimaced as Dean's mighty sneeze peppered the Impala's windshield with a fine mist of snotty spit.

"Dude, really?"

"She knows I'm sick, so she'll forgive me," Dean croaked with a sniff.

Sam looked away in disgust as Dean, out of tissues after his recent cold, snuffled wetly and wiped his nose with his hand, absent-mindedly spreading the resultant snail-trail across his baby's steering wheel.


The Impala was roaring effortlessly along a deserted highway when her problems began.

Hissing and backfiring, after a few moments of pained spluttering, she coasted to a shuddering halt as Dean pulled over onto the verge and leapt out of his poor crippled baby, eyes wide with concern.

After checking the engine, Dean crouched behind the car, peering intently into the tailpipe, convinced there was a blockage until a spontaneous blast of black smoke belched out of the pipe straight into his face.

Job done, her engine fired up smoothly like sweet music.

Standing up, Dean trudged grumpily round the car, coughing nauseously as he slammed the hood and climbed into the driver's side; soot blackened face throwing a sulky glare at Sam through watering green eyes.

Sam grinned broadly; "I think that's called payback dude!"



Tags: dean winchester, humour, hurt comfort, impala, sam winchester

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